Drinks
by TK Catsby
Summary: Oneshot. Luki and Mikuo drink too much at a wedding. NOT A LEMON, but only because I can't write them... LukixMikuo


**Vocaloid fanfiction. Yaaaay. Wrote this after listening to Luki and Mikuos' "Dependence Intension".**

**Warning: Swearing. Also, my FF editor is refusing to allow me to have page-breaks, so bear with me...  
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**I don't own Vocaloid.  
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><p>Luki had never meant for that night to go as far as it did. He had never meant to allow himself to drink <em>that<em> much champagne, and he had certainly never meant to allow Mikuo anywhere _near _the stuff; the boy was under-aged, for god's sake, and Luki prided himself to be somewhat of a responsible adult. Of course, one thing had led to another… The supply of alcohol had seemed to be endless, the hours had passed, and Luki had forgotten to count. He had also, at some unidentifiable moment in the evening, noticed how damn sexy Miku's brother looked in a suit.

The boy had already had a few drinks of his own. Those who were opposed to the fact were too polite to say anything, preferring to leave Mikuo to his immediate family—in this case, Miku. The problem was that Miku didn't give a shit what exactly her brother did. This included how many drinks he had.

Luki encountered him at the bar—where he had apparently presented a fake ID—staring pensively into his glass. The boy's cheeks were flushed a light shade of rose, but his eyes were still clear. He looked up when Luki collapsed onto the stool next to him, raising one eyebrow as he realized how drunk the other was.

"Luki." His tone was somewhere between apprehensive and amused. "Enjoying the party, I see?"

A giggle escaped the pink-haired singer's lips before he could stop it, and he quickly clasped a hand over his mouth, taking a moment to breathe and try to focus on the other. "Hm," he managed finally, still grinning.

Mikuo laughed faintly. "I would buy you a drink, but I doubt you'd be able to actually drink it."

At this, Luki frowned, face suddenly growing solemn. "That hurts, Mikuo," he muttered, voice slurring, but not as badly as the other had expected, "You'd be sssurprised… what I can managed when I'm drunk." He leaned over the counter, fixing the bartender with an unfocused stare. "Drinks," he said, "For both of us. On me." He managed the words with minimal difficulty. As soon as they were said, though, he broke out laughing again.

The bartender turned to Mikuo, raising an eyebrow.

The blunette smiled faintly, apologetically. "Just give us some champagne," he murmured, then glanced at Luki, "And I'm paying."

Luki narrowed his eyes, mouth opening to form a response. The problem was that the words refused to come to him, his brain refused to work properly, and for a long moment, it was all he could do to glare at the other. Finally, he settled for one word; "Fine."

The bartender set the glasses in front of them, casting Mikuo a meaningful glance. "No trouble," he muttered, "I've had enough of that for one night." His eyes flickered over to a limp form at one end of the bar—Meiko.

Mikuo's snorted faintly, his smile thin. "I know."

It wasn't long before Mikuo was aware that he had drunk far too much.

"Damn it, Luki," he grumbled, looking at the other sideways from his position slumped across the counter, "You're an ass."

Luki only smiled wider, and all that Mikuo could think about was how perfectly white his teeth were. The pink-haired man blinked slowly, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks, and leaned towards the other. "I know," he slurred, "'M an ass. 'S official."

Mikuo's troubled look deepened at the other's words, his eyebrows knitting together. He closed his eyes, shaking his head drunkenly. "Nonono," he mumbled, "'Ur not. Really. 'Ur not. 'M sorry. I think you… you're…" He trailed off, fixing Luki with an unfocused stare, unsure of what he had been planning to say.

_You're brilliant. You're beautiful, and your voice is beautiful, and for some reason I'm never able to say this to your face… _

Luki was leaning even closer to him, and all that Mikuo could think about was how his flushed cheeks matched his hair, how bright and beautiful his eyes were…

Then, the singer was so close that Mikuo could feel his breath ghost across his lips. "So 'm not an ass?"

Mikuo blinked into those cerulean eyes and nodded, leaning back slightly. He could feel heat rising to his face, though he wasn't exactly sure what could be causing it. "Not an ass," he agreed.

"Good."

With that, Mikuo felt lips brush against his, soft and warm, and he found that there was no urge to pull away. In fact, he felt like leaning into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting…

Because this was what he'd been waiting for, and everything was clicking into place. Unclear feelings, withheld love, confusion… It was all making sense, and Mikuo was _sure _that it wasn't just because of the alcohol.

"Wait." Luki was the one who pulled back, face suddenly severe. He broke off the kiss suddenly and without warning, and Mikuo couldn't help but give a slight sound of protest. His fuzzy mind was struggling to understand why the other had stopped, wondering vaguely if, after hitting on him for nearly a _goddamn_ hour, the older man had decided he wasn't interested. The thought made him want to cry.

Then, Luki stood, albeit unsteadily, and grasped the other's wrist. Without another word, he dragged Mikuo away from the bar, towards the stairs leading to the second floor of the ballroom…

Luki remembered that night as a chronological series of events. The wedding had led to drinking, the drinking had led to kissing, and the kissing had led to fucking. That was really all there was to it, and even though the younger man had been fully willing—even assisting—in the events that had occurred, Luki couldn't help but feel responsible. He was the older one, after all. The one who was supposed to make sure that shit like that didn't happen—that Mikuo was comfortable, at ease, happy. Even if it _was _revealed that they both had feelings for each other, there was still no excuse…

Luki was hunched over a table in the hotel's café with a cup of black coffee clutched between his hands when he saw the other again. Mikuo was a mess; his hair stuck out from his head in all directions, and his "Project Diva" shirt was on backwards. The strained look on his face clearly told Luki that the younger man was battling hangover.

_Join the fucking club. _

He glared at the other, pissed off for no reason other than the pain in his head, and blinked. Then, he remembered.

_Sweat slick skin pressed against his own… Mikuo's voice, forced an octave higher in his ecstasy… Hands clawing desperately at his back…_

Luki's fingers curled tighter around his cup as the memories assaulted him in waves, drowning him in embarrassment and guilt. He swallowed, unable to tear his eyes away as Mikuo ordered himself his own coffee, brow knitting as he glared at the menu's tiny print. Panic was rising in his throat as Luki tried to think of how to react, what to say.

"_Sorry about last night, but you were totally enjoying it."_

The thought made him sick. A part of him was reminding him that it wasn't entirely his fault, and that he shouldn't feel responsible for what had happened, but it was quickly smothered by the rest of him. _Just face him and apologize, _he told himself, _or hope that he doesn't turn around…_

Pathetically, Luki bowed his head, staring intensely at his drink. As if the pink hair didn't stand out…

"Luki."

… _Fuck._

The singer slowly raised his head. His dark blue eyes met Mikuo's teal, and he swallowed, dread coloring his features. For a long moment—or was it only seconds?—neither of them said anything. Mikuo's face was impassive, features blank, eyes half-lidded.

"… Mikuo, I—"

Luki's words were apologetic. Mikuo cut him off, leaning against the table and pressing his lips against his.

The kiss was short, chaste. Luki was too stunned to react, and even after the younger man pulled back, he continued to just stare, lips parted, eyes wide. Mikuo blinked again, lethargically. "Luki," he muttered, voice soft, "Shut up."

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><p><strong>So... I've never gotten drunk and had sex at a wedding, so don't kill me if this isn't realistic. I also barely ever write romance... Hm. Anyway, thanks for reading!<strong>

**Oh yeah. It's Kaito's wedding. That's all I got, though. I don't know who he's marrying.  
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**Reviews appreciated!**


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